


organic things, beautiful things

by fishycorvid



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Honey Sticks, Overpriced Lemons, Prompt Fic, Unimportant Case, farmers market, fluffy fluff, haven't written fluff in literal years, longish drabble, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 02:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14227113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishycorvid/pseuds/fishycorvid
Summary: Two bickering detectives. A sunny day. Cheap honey sticks.





	organic things, beautiful things

**Author's Note:**

> from a tumblr prompt by @elsaclack (go check her out her writing is beautiful and she's a super cool person!!)
> 
> haven't written in fluff in so damn long, but i tried to use it to get out of a writer's block. didn't help, but it was fun. 
> 
> enjoy!!

“–okay, Santiago, since you know everything– what the hell kind of hardened criminal goes to the farmers market on their off time? Isn’t he a little busy, you know, taking candy from children and robbing hipsters’ apartments? Kicking puppies? I don’t know what criminals do in their free time.”

An old lady shoots them a dirty look and Amy elbows him, none too gently. “Peralta. We’re undercover, you dumbass,” she hisses into his ear. “You’re not a cop.”

He turns his head to grin at her. “You’re right I’m not. I’m Robert Kentington, the newly engaged and extremely handsome young baker. And you’re my frigid, emotionally inarticulate teacher fiancee.”

“Screw you, Peralta.”

“It’s _Robert!_ I feel like you’re not committing to the part, _darling.”_ Jake smiles at her winningly and extends his hand towards her. “Take my hand, dear. Honey. Babe. Beautiful. Sweetness. Dear. Wait, I already said that one, didn’t I—”

“Hang on!” she whispers, and Jake freezes, glancing around and snapping his mouth closed.

“Do you see him?” he murmurs, dipping his head so she can more easily whisper in his ear. He can feel her breath, soft and light on his neck, and in the back of his mind, he realizes he probably shouldn’t be noticing that kind of thing about his colleague. She leans closer to the side of his head, winding her arms around her shoulders, and Jake wishes he could be chill around her for once in his life. The silence is killing him, and he's pretty damn sure she knows it.

“No,” she murmurs, lips brushing his ears, and he swears that he can feel her smiling. “I just wanted you to shut up for once.” Jake sighs loudly and shakes her off of him, rolling his eyes, but he knows he’s smiling, too.

“Love you too, babe,” he says, voice dripping with fake sincerity. And when she grins at him and entangles his fingers with hers, and warm morning sunlight is behind her so perfectly, and her eyes are shining at him, he wonders if he maybe meant it for real, too.

He tries not to think like that again.

They don’t catch their guy that day, or the day after that (and they both studiously tell themselves it’s not because their characters were distracting), but Jake _does_ score some of those fifty-cent honey sticks that you can suck on, and his uptight colleague even smiled at him once or twice, so he’s calling it a win.

___________

It’s several years before they come back to the farmers market, what with Jake’s determined aversion towards any healthy and/or organic foods, Amy’s almost admirable inability to cook, and their general effort to forget every failed case they’d ever worked.

When they do, things are different, but the setting is the same: the sun. Two detectives. Fruit season. Booths covered in umbrellas and little tents with locals hawking their products. The babble of countless people, a comforting buzz in the background. A pleasant kind of hot day. 

“Hey!” Jake exclaims as Amy bodily drags him down the street. “We’ve been here before!” 

“Good job, babe. I’m proud of you for remembering,” she says, with only thirty percent sarcasm instead of the regular seventy percent. She's cutting him slack for his goldfish brain.

He grins down at her, trademark grin on his face. “Aw, thanks.” He exaggeratedly kisses the top of her head, just by her hairline, and she smiles.

“I figured we could get some stuff here, and then make something for dinner that isn’t takeout– you know, like real people do?” she asks, almost hesitantly.

“We aren’t real people? God, that explains so damn much,” Jake jibes, toying with her ponytail behind her back, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling at him like a total sap. Instead, she smacks his shoulder, and he shrieks, hopping away from her. “We can make dinner! There’s nothing stopping us! We’re a functional couple who can do things!” he yelps.

“Damn right we are. Come on,” she responds, a fond smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

Somehow, the shopping trip isn’t a disaster, though Jake only just manages to save Amy from getting scammed on lemons (“Babe, why the hell would ten second-rate citruses cost one hundred entire dollars? That’s more than our monthly wages!” “Oh my God, have you ever looked at your paycheck? Even once? In your career of over five years?”) and Amy only just stops him from spending their entire budget on those damn honey sticks.

But in the end, as they’re bickering hand in hand, their other arms and shoulders laden with cloth bags, Jake looks at her. She’s rambling about that lemon shopkeep, brow furrowed adorably, and the sun is hitting her in a way that he suddenly remembers so well and he stops in his tracks.

Amy stops midsentence and turns to look back at him. “What’s up? You okay?” Her eyes skim his face with a hint of worry, and Jake can’t help the warmth that spreads through his chest. He leans forward and kisses her, slow and light. The sun is warm on their faces as he brings up a hand to her jaw and strokes his thumb down her cheek. When he pulls away, her eyes are soft and a little wider, a small, shy smile on her face.

“What was that for?”

“I just– remembered the last time we were here.” He drops his hand back down to hers, relishes the way her fingers feel on his. Amy smiles, and the warmth is back. He can’t help the grin that splits his face wide open, and he kisses her again for good measure. The bags press between them, making the whole affair a little awkward, but Jake’s not complaining, not at all.

“Me too,” Amy murmurs against his lips.

Jake squeezes her hand.

He thinks: _This is everything I ever wanted back then._

He says: “Thank God I’m marrying you for real this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you think and follow me on tumblr @fishycorvid if you want 
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
